


Apollo With the Righteous Glare, Apollo With the Golden Hair...I'd Like to See You in Your Underwear

by vague_ambition



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, Drunkenness, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Party, Porn, Porn With Plot, Prompt Fic, Singing, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 21:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vague_ambition/pseuds/vague_ambition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr anon prompt: Grantaire gets in a foul mood and his way of dealing with it is drinking even more and being twice as loud and obnoxious as usual to try to get any attention at all from his golden Apollo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apollo With the Righteous Glare, Apollo With the Golden Hair...I'd Like to See You in Your Underwear

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Les Mis or Don't Stop Believing. I'd have more money if I did. 
> 
> This is my first prompt fill! A wonderful anon on tumblr gave this to me, feel free to stop by and say hi or drop a request in my askbox or the comments. My tumblr is justpaperpeople.tumblr.com. Hope I did ok!!!

            “What crawled up your ass and died there?” Courfeyrac asked, sitting across the table from Grantaire. Grantaire glared at his curly-haired friend and didn’t answer, merely sipping his coffee. “Seriously, though. You’re sulking so badly you look like Enjolras.” At the mention of Enjolras’s name, Grantaire just glared harder, which didn’t intimidate Courfeyrac in the slightest.

“Go away, Courf.” Grantaire groaned. “I’m not in the mood.” Courf gasped, looking fake offended.

“Okay grumpy pants.” He asked, undeterred. “What did our fearless leader do now?”

“What makes you think it was Enjolras?” Grantaire asked, deflecting the question.

“When isn’t it?” Courfeyrac shrugged. “He’s an oblivious ass and you’re in love with him. Of course it was Enjolras.”

“Fair enough.” Grantaire conceded. “We had a debate, turned into an argument as always, he told me that I’m worthless and don’t believe in anything.” Courfeyrac sucked in a breath.

“He actually said that?” he asked. “Harsh.”

“His exact words were ‘you don’t do, or try to do, anything that could possibly be good or noteworthy. You believe only in nothing. What is the worth in that?’” Grantaire recited in a monotone. Courfeyrac’s eyebrows shot up.

“Shit.” He said, seemingly at a loss for words, before perking up. “But tonight is the night to forget all that bullshit! I’m having a party at my new apartment!”

“Is he going to be there?” Grantaire asked in the same monotone. Courfeyrac flinched at the sound of his friend’s voice, but nodded.

“It’s not optional, even for Enjolras. You don’t even have to talk to him if you don’t want.” Courfeyrac promised. When he saw that the other man was still hesitant, he added his winning point. “Free booze.”

“Eh, okay, I’m in.” Grantaire shrugged, deciding he didn’t care. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

            The worst that could happen was Grantaire getting outrageously drunk. Apparently. He had seen Enjolras coming towards him when he walked in and had turned away and walked straight to the kitchen, where Courfeyrac had all sorts of (free) booze out. Now, two hours later, he was completely hammered, and decided that everyone should know he didn’t care what Enjolras said to him.

            He didn’t! Enjolras’s opinion didn’t matter. And Enjolras needed to know that he was completely fine after their fight, that Enjolras didn’t even MEAN that much to Grantaire. Although if Enjolras wanted to kiss him, he would be more than fine with it. In fact, maybe when Enjolras saw how one hundred percent fantastic Grantaire was, he would kiss him. It made perfect logical sense. Grantaire was the best at logic.

“Apollo!” he shouted, running up to him. Enjolras looked annoyingly sober, despite the beer he was holding, and particularly unimpressed. “Great god of the sun, your golden locks sparkle even in this terrible lighting. How mere mortals admire you!”

“I tried to apologize earlier and you ran off.” Enjolras informed him, disregarding Grantaire’s comments, sounding extremely irritated. “To drink, apparently.”

“Ah, yes. To drink the drink of gods…screwdrivers.” Grantaire nodded sagely. “All except this god, of course, you’re above all that, it seems. You think me being drunk means I can’t do things. I can do many things. Like ten things.”

“Go away, winecask.” Enjolras said, rolling his eyes. “I know you can do things. You can draw, I’ve seen it.”

“Ah, but drawing is one thing. I can do more than thing. I can do plural things.” Grantaire objected. How dare Enjolras suggest that all he could do was draw? He had to show him now. (It would demonstrate how ok and cool he was and then Enjolras would say ‘woah, Grantaire’s so cool, I’m going to bang him.’) “GET ME A GUITAR!” Grantaire declared.

“I’m not giving a drunken man a guitar, are you kidding?” Enjolras said, seeming completely annoyed.

“Give me a guitar, Apollo. I will not hurt it. Guitars are kind to me.” Grantaire said, whispering in his ear. He could handle a guitar. Enjolras didn’t move, yet somehow an electric guitar appeared before him. He looked to see Marius holding it out, already connected to an amp. “You are a wonderful puppy, Marius.” Grantaire declared, before turning to see that the rest of Les Amis were watching them. “Observe, Apollo.”

“Observing.” Enjolras remarked dryly as Bahorel and Feuilly failed to hold in their sniggers. Grantaire picked out a few notes (okay, maybe it was Musetta’s Waltz, but if Roger could do it, so could he) before beginning to strum the chords for Don’t Stop Believin’- even if they were normally just piano in the beginning.

“Apollo of the righteous glare, Apollo of the golden hair!” he sang, making up false lyrics enjoying Enjolras’s shocked (and impressed) expression. “I’d like to see you in your underwear! Apollo, you are the head, of a revolutionary gang…I’d like to be in your bed, where we could bang.”Almost everyone was laughing now and Enjolras was bright red. Grantaire grinned as he expertly played the guitar bridge between verses.

“Singing to you and the whole room, you’re giving me that glare of doom, but if you smile it’ll make my night, and I can go on and on and on and on. Drunken singing! Cause you didn’t think I could! But have I impressed you tonight? Told you, I could. Have I proven I can do shit yet? Tell me I’ve impressed you tonight!” he sang, playing the guitar solo right before the chorus. “Don’t stop believin’, hold on to that feelin’! Drunken singing ooh, don’t stop believin’, hold on! Don’t stop believin’! Hold on to that feelin’!” he finished with a quick lick and his friends clapped, drunkenly cheering. Grantaire gave a bow and handed the guitar back to Marius, before turning to Enjolras.

“See, I can do two things. At least.” He smirked at Enjolras, who was gaping at him.

“You don’t believe in anything.” Enjolras got out, finally. “Why would you pick that song?”

“Ah, that’s not true, Apollo.” Grantaire tapped his nose. “I believe in you.” Enjolras went redder.

“That, uh, that was good. The first lyrics, though, erm. A bit dirty.” He stuttered. Grantaire grinned.

            “Apollo of the righteous glare, Apollo of the golden hair, I’d like to see you in your underwear. Apollo, you are the head, of a revolutionary gang…I’d like to be in your bed, where we could bang.” He sang again, quietly. Enjolras gulped and then, apparently deciding something, he grabbed Grantaire’s hand and pulled him into the TV room, just a foot from where they had been, slamming the door shut behind him.

            “What are you doing?” Grantaire asked, startled. “Are you going to yell at me again? I don’t like that.” Enjolras ran a hand through his hair, looking flustered.

“No, I’m not going to yell at you.” He said. Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

“Then what-” his question was cut short by Enjolras pressing his lips against Grantaire’s. Grantaire inhaled, shocked.

“You can do so much.” Enjolras practically growled, pulling away. He shoved Grantaire against the wall in a sudden movement, pressing up against him until there was hardly any space between them, before kissing him again. “Why the hell don’t you?” Grantaire didn’t reply, distracted by Enjolras’s next move of kissing his neck.

“Erm. Are you drunk?” he finally choked out.

“Do you think I need to be drunk to want this?” Enjolras asked, before lightly biting Grantaire’s neck. “You frustrate me so much, Grantaire. So damn much.”

“Sorry.” Grantaire breathed out, moving a little bit. Enjolras responded by grinding his hips against him. “Kind of my job.”

“Not just your lack of belief and conviction in the cause.” Enjolras muttered. “You. Your hair and eyes and artistic, music-playing hands, and your little smirk when you’ve proved me wrong.” He punctuated this with another roll of his hips, causing an involuntary moan from Grantaire. “You drive me crazy.”

“Crazy, huh?” Grantaire asked, wrapping his arms around the other man to reach down to his jeans. “Good crazy or bad crazy?” he tugged at Enjolras’s pants slightly, and the other man shifted enough for them to slide down. Grantaire trailed his hand around to the front of Enjolras’s body and slid it inside his boxers. He wrapped his hand around Enjolras’s cock, using the beads of pre-cum to move a bit easier as he began to twist up and down.

“Definitely good crazy.” Enjolras breathed, capturing Grantaire’s mouth in another scorching kiss, pulling his head towards him with one hand while undoing Grantaire’s pants with the other. Enjolras pulled back for a second to look at Grantaire, his pupils blown wildly. “You’re not wearing underwear.” He moaned breathily as Grantaire’s strokes became harder and faster.

“Didn’t think anyone would notice.” Grantaire smirked and Enjolras kissed him again before stopping his hand.

“Hang on.” Enjolras murmured. Grantaire moved his hand, not quite sure what was going on, and Enjolras sank to his knees in front of him. Grantaire gasped as Enjolras licked a stripe up his cock and couldn’t hold back a moan as he took him in his throat.

“Enj...” he groaned as the other man bobbed his head back and forth, licking and doing things with his tongue that should be illegal. Grantaire had long since sobered up, somewhat, and couldn’t believe this was happened. He lost all semblance of thought, though, as  
Enjolras sped up, sucking harder.

“Enjolras, I’m going to-” he warned, cutting off with a choked moan. Instead of pulling back, Enjolras kept going, until Grantaire moaned out his name, coming harder than he had in years.

            When Grantaire next looked at Enjolras, still breathing heavily, the other man was sitting back on his heels, wiping his mouth with a pleased expression on his face.

“You still…” Grantaire offered, gesturing at Enjolras’s crotch. He shook his head.

“Your moans are really hot.” He explained and Grantaire sucked in a breath at that little fact.

“What the hell was that?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Well, I was angry cause you have potential and cause you sang a twisted version of Journey at me and you drive me crazy, but now I’m not and I even managed to figure out what this is.” Enjolras explained matter-of-factly, standing up and pulling his jeans back up.  
“What would this be?” Grantaire asked, still staring at him. Enjolras wrapped his arms around Grantaire’s waist and pulled him against himself, kissing him tenderly. Grantaire had freaking butterflies.

“I’m in love with you.” Enjolras shrugged. And, well, if Grantaire’s jaw literally dropped then, nobody would know. “I love you, Grantaire.”

“I love you too.”


End file.
